


The Ladies' Room

by bactaqueen



Category: Rancid (Band)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boys will be punks. Who fuck messily in women’s restrooms in the middle of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ladies' Room

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is entirely coincidental.  
>    
> Author's Note: Originally posted September 2006.

The men’s room was occupied but the women’s wasn’t. Fuck gender, eh? And Tim barged in to the cleaner, closer restroom. He got his fly open and his boxers shoved aside before Lars even got the door shut.   
  
He missed on purpose.   
  
Lars shouldered him out of the way. “Slob,” he grumbled, but made little effort of his own not to hit the seat. His eyes wandered as he pissed, over the weird slate walls and the fake ivy climbing the corner, over to the boxy white machine that hung above a rickety table.   
  
Finished, he zipped his fly and pointed at the box. “Is that for condoms?”  
  
Tim glanced from the mirror where he was examining the spots he’d missed on his scalp when shaving that morning. He looked at the machine, then at Lars, then went back to the mirror. “Yeah. Girls fuck, too, you know.”  
  
Lars cut his eyes at Tim, then fished in his pockets. He only came up with two quarters. The obscene stickers required seventy-five cents for something that was guaranteed to please her. Like a child, he held his hand out to Tim.   
  
“Give me a quarter.”  
  
Smirking, Tim did as he was told. “Girls fuck, Lars, but they don’t fuck you,” he taunted.  
  
Making a face, Lars pushed the quarters into the machine and turned the knob. A deceptively small box, sealed with shrink wrap probably for sanitation, tumbled from the narrow slot in the base of the machine. Lars caught it and held it up to read the package. One lubricated condom--with pleasure bumps! He snickered and tore off the plastic, then opened the box. The condom spilled into his palm, slick and slimy, rolled up and ready to go.  
  
“How long did Matty give us?”  
  
Tim’s face paled and he shook his head. “Oh, no, man. Not long enough.”  
  
“But it’s lubricated!” Lars held up the condom. “And in your favorite color!”  
  
“It’s gonna make your dick look like a chew toy.”  
  
But Lars’ dick was already hard in his pants. He laughed. “Promise not to use your teeth and I’ll let you chew on it.”  
  
Tim set his jaw stubbornly. “No.” He turned to leave. Lars’ smirk only became more devious and he waited for Tim to turn his back before he moved. Slamming Tim against the door was easy; he was so much smaller. Even getting his hand down Tim’s pants was easy since they were so loose. What was tough--what was always tough--was getting Tim to keep quiet.  
  
“Hey! No!”  
  
Lars wrapped his rough fingers around Tim’s cock and tugged. “But it’s lubricated.”  
  
“It’s lubricated for a chick.”  
  
“Bet it works on you, then.”  
  
Tim managed to shove Lars off and turn around and punch him. As Lars regained his balance and his breath, he grinned proudly. He’d won and he knew it: Tim’s idea of foreplay was bloodying his partner’s mouth and his knuckles.   
  
“Let’s see if it works on you.” But Tim’s face was flushed and he was panting and Lars knew what he really meant.   
  
“I’m ready, Timmy. Turn around and drop your pants.”  
  
He should have hesitated at least to save face, but Tim never was a good liar. He was too honest. He did exactly as Lars ordered, turning and dropping his pants and boxers around his ankles. He braced his hands on the edges of the sink and bent forward just enough. His cock was already hard and the head of it rubbed the front hem of his black wifebeater. He met Lars’ eyes in the mirror.  
  
“Do you want Matt to come looking for us?”  
  
Lars shuffled forward, freeing his cock as he did. “Nah. I don’t want to share this time.”  
  
He rolled the condom down and almost made a face; Tim was right, it did make him look like a chew toy. It was lubricated, definitely, but not enough and he knew it. Lars gave a mental shrug. Tim would just have to keep it down--he was getting fucked, and now it was beyond the sex, it was the principle of the matter.   
  
Lars rested a hand on Tim’s sharp hip and guided his cock. He watched Tim’s face in the mirror, saw the clear blue of his eyes go smoky and the lines of concentration appear at his eyes and mouth. Lars pushed in and watched the pain flicker across Tim’s face.   
  
“Harder,” Tim grunted. “Make it fast.”  
  
What a punk.  
  
Grinning, Lars settled both hands in firm grips on Tim, drew his own hips back, and slammed in. Tim’s mouth opened in a silent “oh” and his body bowed, but Lars didn’t let up. He wanted it harder? He wanted it fast? Lars gave it to him.  
  
Tim’s hands curled and his head went down, and for a moment, Lars watched himself in the mirror through the blue Mohawk. Then his head fell, too, and he was watching his blue rubber cock slide in and out of Tim’s ass.   
  
He laughed.   
  
Tim’s hand convulsed on the edges of the sink. His body arched and a low grunt squeezed past his lips and he stiffened. Then there was a mess in the sink, and on the edge of his shirt, and his back seemed to want to melt.   
  
“Hurry up, man,” Tim grumbled.   
  
Lars pounded a few more times, closed his eyes, bit his lip, and came. It wasn’t a bad orgasm, but he’d had better. He pulled out and looked at his chew-toy limp dick and laughed again, this time shaky and breathless.   
  
Tim yanked his pants up and tuned around. He grinned at Lars’ dick and then at his face. “Told you.”  
  
Lars shook his head and peeled the condom off. He dropped it in the toilet and chuckled, then rearranged his pants.   
  
Tim already had the door open. Neither of them bothered to rinse the sink out or flush the toilet.  


End file.
